


The only difference is what might be is now what might have been

by gatty



Category: Homestuck
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-04
Updated: 2011-09-04
Packaged: 2017-10-23 10:11:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/249160
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gatty/pseuds/gatty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You think <i>well, shit</i> for just the tiniest of moments, and really, no one would blame you. Stuck on a ledge in the land of Rays and Frogs and Failing To Complete This Side Quest For Days You Swear, and then those horns, hook and crescent, pop up over edge of the cliff, followed by one robot arm that has lost its shine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The only difference is what might be is now what might have been

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the HSO bonus round 2b Mobius Double Reacharound FST

You think _well, shit_ for just the tiniest of moments, and really, no one would blame you. Stuck on a ledge in the land of Rays and Frogs and Failing To Complete This Side Quest For Days You Swear, and then those horns, hook and crescent, pop up over edge of the cliff, followed by one robot arm that has lost its shine.

“God, Kanaya, are you actually planning just to sit on this ledge for the rest of the game?”

“I was considering my options,” you reply, shuffling over on the ledge to make room for her.

She wipes the sweat from her forehead from her sleeve and slumps down beside you, her flesh arm pressing against yours.

“I am here to tell you your options. Sit on this ledge until you become plant fertiliser, or come with me and we blow this thing wide open.”

She grins at you, points of her fangs pressed into her bottom lip.

“Erm.”

“Nope, wrong answer.”

She leans over and for a moment your heart skitter and races as her hand sides along her hip - then she’s pulling out your lipstick and holding if in front of your face.

“You chainsaw, I’ll maim. Sound good?”

You are being dragged over the side of the ledge before you have a chance to ask who exactly she’s planning to maim.

*

She is sitting, feet dangling in the steaming carcass of something you can’t identify, spattered with pink and orange blood. It’s in her hair, matting it to her face and tangling around her horns. You have wiped yourself clean already, lipstick safely back in your pocket. You climb up the tail of the beast, holding onto its spines, and sit down next to her. She is shuddering, fists clenching and unclenching in gore. Her head snaps round as you move close to her, pupil widely dilated, teeth bared. She growls, a low chocking noise. You slide one hand along her arm, taking her hand and straightening out the fingers. You work your thumbs over her palm, smoothing out the tension. You feel the tendons under your fingers relax, the taught muscles release and then she is crumpling against you. You pull the hair off her horns, peeling it back from the skin of her forehead and you smooth it down. She still looks a mess, a terrifying, sharp edged tangle of rage and control issues, but she is slack against your side. You sit and wait as your breathing falls into rhythm, and she moves her face to nuzzle into your neck, lips pressing against your jugular.

*

The last time, you fight back to back, moving in symmetry as you hack and slice through the final boss. When it is grist in the wind, and your muscles are burning and the effort of holding your head up seems beyond your capabilities, she grins at you. Slides her arm around your shoulders and pulls you down in a heap. She’s warm and uncomfortably boney, shoulders sharper than the rock you lean against, but you’re too tired to give a crap.

“Not bad, Maryam,” she drawls around a yawn. “Might be hope for you yet.”

“I can be tough when the need arises,” you reply.

“I saw.”

She is smirking at you, and you wonder if she realises her fingers are winding through your hair. Your breathing quickens as she moves closer to you. You can see her chapped lips, and where her eyelashes have been clumped together with blood and sweat.

She doesn’t kiss you.

She presses her cheek to your shoulder, and her fingers slide from your hair.

“I’m just going to sleep here for a bit, kay?” she mumbles into your clothes.

You nod, your chin bumping into the top of her head.

“It’s okay.”


End file.
